


What If...?

by lifeiszesty



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 12:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12036003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeiszesty/pseuds/lifeiszesty
Summary: What if Agria held on to Leia's hand?





	What If...?

She stretches out her hand as gravity pulls you down with the rocks that break apart beneath you. It’s exactly like that feeling you’ve felt over and over again in your life. You say you don’t care about it, because you don’t want to think about it. You don’t want to feel anything…

But you feel gravity pull you, and it is heavy like the weight on your shoulders you pretend you don’t have because no one sees it.

When the ground crumbles, it catches you by surprise. You thought nothing can catch you by surprise anymore. But the rocks break and your body falls. The waves crash against the sharp rocks below. You know what is coming. You tell yourself you don’t care. No flashbacks of your life to haunt you in your last moments. Not for you.

But she catches your hand and you hang there, a body swaying between life and death. You didn’t ask for that. And the words she starts saying, you don’t want to hear it.

But what if you listen to her words? What if, when you look into her big, dopey, earnest eyes, you don’t look away? What if you realize that yes, you want her to pull you up? And what if you let her and she puts her arms around your weakened body? What if you let her hold you, her body trembling and her tears dripping on your face? What if, despite yourself, you clasp your hands around her as she clings to you, and says she’s happy that you’re alive, that she could finally, finally help you? What if you finally let it go, those feelings you’ve locked tight inside yourself, and let it stream down your cheeks? What if, after you realize people are watching, you shove her off and try to save face, furiously swiping your cheeks, spitting out you didn’t ask to be saved? What if, after a moment of silence, you look into her eyes for a brief moment and whisper, “thanks”?

What if, after the schism is dispelled, she takes you back to her family’s inn and lets you stay with her and her family in that sickeningly energetic household on that cozy, lazy island village? What if you, frightened by her mother, are forced to help her with chores, put to work like some kind of scullery maid? What if, after a long day of feeding boring townspeople and cleaning boring rooms no one is using, you are rewarded with her father’s homemade mabo curry? What if you ignore her as she scarfs down her food as inelegantly as a pig, because you suddenly remember your mother’s homemade cooking. What if you bite your lip because you’ve forced yourself not to remember your mother for years, and now you have to pretend you’re totally fine as you eat the best dinner you’ve had since your mother was alive? Before your mother supposedly died in an accident, before your stepmother force fed you scraps of food, before your father and stepmother and half-siblings perished in a house that never felt like home, before you lived on the streets and begged strangers for a bite of bread… And you look at this girl beside you who has never known hunger and has a family who loves her and a roof over her head, and you run out of that house because it’s not your home. You don’t deserve a home, you tell yourself, but she chases after you, and she grabs you as you scream. But she holds you down and screams back and tells you that you do deserve a home. You deserve to be happy. And she will share her happiness with you, because she believes in you and wants you to know what it feels like to be happy. And you both struggle to get up because the screaming attracted monsters. And you both get scratched up even though it’s an easy peasy fight, but you don’t resist as she drags you back to her home and patches you up, laughing. And you patch her up and try to scowl as she smiles.

When she confides in you about her future and asks for your opinion, what if you tell her to quit nursing—it doesn’t make her happy anyway, chasing after a boy who doesn’t share her feelings, a boy who doesn’t really understand her or see her the way you do. What if, when she decides to travel to search for a job, you agree to follow her so you can laugh in her face when she sees how hard it is? What if, instead of laughing at her when she faces rejection over and over again, you grit your teeth because it’s so hard not to slap her fake smile from her stupid face? You hate that about her, when she pretends everything is fine, when she tries so hard to be strong when she’s actually weak. What if, when you go back to your shared room at the inn and you hear her forced laughter, and the shaky “maybe they’re right,” you grab her shoulders forcefully and stare into those large blubbery eyes and tell her that she’s better than those dumbasses who look down on her, that she deserves a better job than what those shits have, because you know she isn’t really weak; she’s strong and you’re the one who’s weak, but you’ll never say that out loud. But, what if she looks up and smiles, a tear or three leaking out as she says, “thank you.” She shouldn’t say thank you, and she’s too stupid to figure that out, but instead of saying so, you bonk her on the head and tell her to go to sleep. Tomorrow’s another day.

Imagine her face as she tells you, yes, she’s got a job, a job as a journalist! Her eyes sparkle, and you realize how important this is for her, this small thing that is so insignificant, but to her, it’s everything. That wide, goofy smile is pointed at you, and, despite yourself, the ends of your own mouth turn upward as you say, as sarcastically as possibly, “congratulations.” She huffs and puffs as normal, but she is so happy, so damn happy, and so are you, aren’t you? You complain as she drags you away to shop for clothes befitting reporters, and clothes for you, too, because you’re going to be her sidekick, she says. Sidekick your ass, you’re fine with the same clothes you’ve been wearing since Gaius plucked you off the streets and gave you a reason for living, but she won’t hear of it. New clothes for a new era, to reinvent yourselves. You both spend way more money than planned, but she convinces you that it’s important, yes, super important. With matching hats, she poses in front of a mirror, her in her new yellow jacket and you in a similar red, for red is your color and you won’t give up that small part of your identity. She compliments herself and compliments you too and pulls you into a hug. You don’t resist this time. Your chest tingles, and you feel like the weight on your shoulders is gone. Maybe that’s what happiness is. But you will never admit it.

You travel often and everywhere to eavesdrop on meetings and wait around corners to pounce on politicians, merchants, and suspects. You follow her across two worlds as she looks forward, ahead, pen and paper in hand, eyes on the future. Your eyes are on her back, trailing behind her shadow, one step behind, the daily grind for the daily scoop, following her laughter into danger and into long silences, waiting, watching, complaining. You start to fall in love with the world as she does, you begin to see the world she sees, and you figure out why she works so hard, why she smiles and laughs and finds beauty everywhere. Even in you. Her eyes pull you in—they always have, eyes that see the world in bright colors, like your mother did, like you did, once upon a time.  
What if you spend the rest of your life by this girl’s side, trying to catch that brilliant happiness, to call it your own?  
But you cannot and will not see the future.

You wrench your hand out of her grip and let gravity pull you down. You look up to see her arm outstretched, eyes wide, her mouth screaming your name. Your face forms a smirk as you respond with your middle finger. You fall and fall, that girl’s face becoming smaller and smaller until it’s out of sight.

Your body breaks upon the rocks. So what?


End file.
